White Fire
by bout2getlit
Summary: "Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest, Granger. We'll deal with the poison later." Hermione is rigid, uptight and perfect...but fire doesn't discriminate. Can duelling clubs, detention and a former enemy seduce her into embracing the wilder side of life? After all, white fire burns brightest. DRAMIONE
1. Chapter 1

**This Story takes place in Sixth Year. However, some details are different. Umbridge and Snape co-teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. This chapter begins after the event in Hogsmeade with Katie Bell.**

 **I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's characters.**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

Harry was fuming.

"I know it was Malfoy, he's been working with the death eaters since summer. Probably before then," Harry was walking quickly along the Gryffindor corridor. "He's probably been at this since he came to the damn school. It's hardly surprising, is it?" Harry posited it as a question but the tone suggested that neither Ron or Hermione should answer.

"And Dumbledore's been letting it happen, right under his nose." Harry reached the portrait first. "Balderdash" he muttered and waited impatiently for the fat lady to reveal the entrance to the common room.

"I'm not denying that Malfoy's a slimy little git, mate" Ron started, still shaken from the incident with Katie Bell, "but he's has never actually done anything worse than annoy you." He paused "and Hermione, if you count the time the slapped him." He grinned. "Good times."

"I regret nothing." Hermione said, feigning innocence as she climbed through after Harry, "but Ron's right, I don't think he's any real threat."

"I mean, it's Malfoy." Ron chimed in, before sniggering. "Remember when Moody turned him into a ferret."

"Ah the incredible bouncing ferret", Hermione added wistfully.

Harry smiled slightly to her relief. She knew that herself and Ron were treading water trying to cheer Harry up, but Merlin he'd been so touchy since she'd met him in the Burrow earlier this year. Chosen One or not; Harry needed to lighten the fuck up.

They sat together by the fire and Hermione briefly considered taking out her Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, as Umbridge had mentioned that they were trying something new tomorrow. She refrained however, purely out of staunch rebellion against Dolores' teaching methods, although it hurt her deeply knowing she was not performing to the best of her ability in the pointless class.

"He's been acting differently though." Harry pulled her out of her reverie. Ron snorted.

"Thought we'd moved past this." Ron said as he stretched contentedly on the armchair, letting the fire warm him.

"But there's something….I don't know, something off." Harry persisted.

"Harry, I think you're reading too much into things. He hasn't done anything. Stop obsessing, he's not worth it." Hermione soothed, losing the battle with herself and taking out her Defence Against the Dark Arts 'ministry certified' drivel.

Harry dropped it and eventually took out his own potions book. Hermione regarded him with suspicion. There was something about that book. She wanted to avoid another pointless argument and kept her suspicions to herself, a rare occurrence, she noted. Although, come to think of it, Harry was not entirely wrong when it came to Malfoy. Of course, Hermione didn't think he was up to anything, but there was something off. He'd been quieter and more subdued as of late. There was something darker in his eyes, like a shadow. Hermione thought it was pain as opposed to the malice Harry saw, not that she cared to pay all that much attention. And if he hadn't been such a constant bother to her, she might have even felt sorry for the guy.

NEXT DAY

Defence against the Dark Arts with Slytherin. Hermione would have thought that the faculty would have realised at this point that Slytherin and Gryffindor mesh about as well as water and oil. Or perhaps fire and water, if you count the aspect of mutually assured destruction (which she did). This façade of comradery between the houses was pointless and only existed to instil a bit of healthy competition between the students. If staff were really so interested in harmony, they wouldn't have separated students into houses in the first place.

"Ahem. Settle down students." Professor Umbridge's sharp shrill voice cut through the murmur of students without doing much to stay it. If there was one sound Hermione could do without hearing for the rest of her life, it was Umbridge's dire little cough. She purposefully turned back to Harry and Ron and the trio conversed with even more gusto than before. This appeared to be a common theme amongst the Gryffindors present. Hermione took immense pleasure from the anger touching Umbridge's features. She huffed. The shade of red clashing beautifully with the puce pink outfit she had chosen for herself today. Dreadfully predictable, that woman was, as well as being predictably dreadful.

"Quiet now." The familiar authoritative drawl rang through the hall, leaving a sonorous silence drifting around the room. Snape stood with a sour expression fastened to his lips. Dark eyes roaming the students, Hermione instinctively recoiled. Harry looked up defiantly and Ron stared at the floor. Hermione was a bright witch, she knew when and of whom it was prudent to be afraid.

Umbridge smiled and Hermione fought very hard not to roll her eyes.

"As you know, there have been some changes to the syllabus to the extent that it is finally in line with new ministry regulations." Umbridge beamed. "I am pleased to inform you all that we will now be beginning the practical segment of the course." A murmur went around the room as students exclaimed their surprise.

"What's she on about?" Ron mouthed to Hermione. She just shook her head in response and eyed Umbridge warily.

"Professor Snape informs me that something of this nature was implemented before by Gilderoy Lockhart. A duelling club of sorts?" She turned to Professor Snape who nodded curtly in affirmation. Hermione got the sense that he liked the pink little woman about as much as she did.

Harry shot a look of confusion at her. She looked warily at him and Ron and sighed. This was not going to be good.

"We will offer students the opportunity to duel each other using OWL grade spells. We will begin with some demonstrations. Any questions?"

Hermione's hand shot up before she'd even formulated a thought, she considered briefly that it might just be a reflex action before she'd opened her mouth.

"You said at the beginning of the year that we weren't to practice spells." Umbrudge's eyes narrowed and she regarded Hermione with a look of intense dislike.

"Ah yes, ahem, but the ministry feels that it is a good idea to conduct such magic in a _controlled_ environment." She smiled that sweet sickening smile of hers. "Of course, there will be stipulations, however, the minister for magic, Cornelius Fudge, believes that we should attempt to mimic a real duelling scenario. One in which weakness will be punished." At this, she smiled directly at Harry, who was staring daggers back at her. Hermione felt sick.

"Perhaps," began Snape coldly, in that slow, calculated manner of his, "we should begin with a demonstration." Umbridge clapped her hands in response.

"Excellent." She beamed.

"Malfoy" Snape commanded. The crowd parted slightly as Draco began to make his way into the middle of the room. He emerged, head slightly bowed, shooting a dirty look at Professor Snape as he removed his wand from his robes.

Ah, déjà vu. This took Hermione back to second year. She waited for Harry to be called up and wondered who'd be the one to conjure the snake. Although, she supposed that Snape had already done so.

"Mr Longbottom." Snape beckoned a horrified looking Neville from the crowd. Hermione bit back her surprise. For once, the Chosen One hadn't been chosen. Despite the fact that Dumbledore's Army had ceased their covert practice under Harry's tutorage last year, Hermione was fairly confident that Neville's wizardry would at least rival Malfoy's, if not surpass it. If only he had more confidence, that boy would bloom like a flower.

Neville shuffled opposite Malfoy, putting as much distance between them as possible, as though hoping that maybe the air would stop Malfoy's magic.

If only, thought Hermione.

"Wonderful," Umbridge cooed, clasping her thick pale hands together in barely concealed delight. "I will allow Professor Snape to explain the rules."

After about ten minutes of cautions, warnings, and removing a total of fifteen points from Gryffindor for a collective loud breathing and Neville's posture, Snape finished off with a word of warning: "And moving on from OWL standard spells. Yes, you may continue with NEWT and beyond level spells, which I doubt any of you can pull off proficiently enough to cause any sort of damage, granted that they are not dangerous in any way. If a student attempts a spell too ambitious for their ability and winds up injuring another student, they will be held responsible. This is mainly a warning for Mr Finnegan who seems to have a fondness for setting things alight." Seamus shifted in front of Hermione and Ron sniggered.

"Is that funny, Mr Weasley?" Snape asked coldly.

"No Sir" Ron muttered

"5 more points from Gryffindor."

Hermione felt Harry about to retort and stood on his foot.

"And, this goes without saying," Snape turned slightly towards the Slytherins, "but as I am aware that some of you were illegally taught the unforgivable curses in fourth year, I am obliged to say that anyone who attempts such spells will be immediately detained, expelled and shipped to Azkaben for a life-long holiday. Any questions?" The room remained silent.

"Very good. Very good, let's begin." Umbridge took out her wand. "Positions." Neville and Malfoy reluctantly made their way towards each other and bowed, as was proper duelling etiquette, both took three long strides and as sparks flew from Umbridge's wand, they turned wands raised and eyes flashing.

It was quick. The spells that flew from Neville's wand were either countered or flicked away by Malfoy's. This was the first time Hermione had seen him standing upright this year. The change that came about him was stark, and she wondered if anybody else noticed. He stood, back square, eyes focussed, voice unwavering. When finally, he whispered "stupefy", Neville dropped like a stone in shallow water. Blonde hair, blown back from his eyes by the force of his spell, Hermione saw two things she had never seen in Malfoy before; power and the barest hint of a smile. Of course, Hermione couldn't tell if that came from pride or cruelty. Probably a bit of both, she thought.

Poor Neville.

"Blimey," whispered Ron.

"5 points to Slytherin" Snape drawled. "Somebody, take Longbottom off the floor."

"Sir, shouldn't we… um…un-stupefy him first?" Dean asked.

"The effects will wear off in their own time." Snape replied with a very evident lack of interest. Dean took Neville's arms and Parvarti scooped up his legs and proceeded to lug Neville to the corner. How undignified, Hermione thought.

"Everybody, split into partners. We have even numbers, so pair with someone from the opposite house. Malfoy, you duel Ms Granger." Hermione's eyes widened at that.

"Me?" she started.

"I was under the impression that you were supposed to be a bright witch, Ms Granger." Snape shook his head and walked away through the pairs of students. Hermione shook her head, drew her shoulders back and walked towards Malfoy without hesitation. Malfoy was good, but she would be better, she decided. In a classroom setting, she doubted even Harry could outmatch her. Perhaps that was blind arrogance on her part, although she doubted it.

"Granger," Malfoy sneered.

"Malfoy." She responded coldly.

"Keen to end up like Neville?" the bastard was smiling.

"I'm not easily stunned Malfoy," she scoffed.

"I'm quite stunning though" despite her earlier claim, she was stunned by his words. Was that, humour she detected? Surely not.

"The only thing that astounds me about you, Malofy, is your arrogance." She responded with a smile. "It staggers me actually." She continued earnestly.

"Ah now, Granger. You and me both know that's not true."

"As much as I enjoy our little talks, Malfoy, I'm here to learn."

"It's Draco. I could teach you a thing or two about manners." His eyes sparked.

"It's Hermione. And would you like another slap?"

"Kinky." Hermione just stopped and stared in bewilderment at Draco Malfoy. He must be on a high from winning the duel earlier because she hadn't seen him act like this in years. He was light-hearted and grinning. White blonde hair, barely concealing dark, shining eyes.

"You sicken me." She decided, turning defiant eyes up to meet his. He was quite tall.

"Less talking, more duelling. This is not a class in which you are permitted to slack off. 5 points from Gryffindor." Snape swept by them.

"But.." Hermione began heatedly, before rolling her eyes. Merlin, there was just no point with that man.

They bowed to one another, keeping the others' eyes locked firmly as their bodies bent towards the ground. She saw that same fire, eager, focussed energy sparking in his, and wondered if the same extravagance was mirrored in her own.

"First time duelling Granger? Don't worry, I'll be gentle." He whispered, smirking at her. Hermione elected not to answer, despite growing agitation, she refused to let him distract her from the duel. Turning and walking three paces, Hermione held her breath and steeled herself before whirling around, robes billowing around her and pointing her wand.

They battled furiously, sparks flying, curses screamed, lost amongst the deafening noise of a hundred students shouting and crying. A thin sheen of sweat began to bead at Hermione's forehead as she unleashed spell after spell, attacking Draco with a barrage of every spell she could think of. He couldn't flick them away as he did Neville's, and strained with mouth tightened and eyes wide, to repel her magic. She was on the attack, overwhelming him.

Until she made a mistake.

A poorly executed bat bogey hex, offered him an opportunity to attack. He sent red flames her way, as she threw up a shield, feeling the force knock her a step backwards. He retaliated with force to rival her own, throwing spells with all his strength, battering her own defences, willing her to submission. With every ounce of strength, she deflected his attacks. Sweat dripping into her eye. Mouth set.

He had regained the spark as he bit his tongue and watched with anticipation as each of his attempts to break through her shield failed. With every spell, he moved closer, closing the distance between them. With each step, the spells became more difficult to retaliate, more powerful. She held his gaze, willing him to make a mistake, to weaken in his attempts. His eyes were blazing, her whole body burned with the effort of keeping him at bay.

"Let me in." He snarled.

"Never." She yelled hoarsely.

With an extra effort, she pushed Draco back a step with a shower of sparks bursting from the tip of her wand. Which felt hot in her hand.

With only a microseconds hesitation, in which they both stood facing each other, chests heaving from the effort, they raised their wands.

A wordless curse rushed from both bodies, the wands channelling it towards each other. It must have collided somewhere in the space between them because in an instant they were both blown a couple of feet into the air.

Hermione let out a silent gasp as she collided hard with the floor, biting her lip in the process. A sharp pain flew through her body as her hip collided with floor. She stayed there for a couple of seconds, cool marble pressed against her skin, as she let the dim ringing sound fade out and the disorientation settle down. She turned and looked up, to where Malfoy was struggling to his feet, dishevelled, and looking vaguely dizzy. There was small gash above his left eyebrow and the tiny trickle of blood stood starkly against the white of his skin and hair. He looked livid.

Snape swept by them.

"5 points from Gryffindor."

END OF CHAPTER

 **Hope you all enjoy it! Feel free to leave a lil review there xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is all just a bit of fun. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing it! xx**

They walked in silence towards the infirmary. Draco scowling and Hermione chewing angrily at her tongue. _Walked_ may have been the wrong word. They hobbled, shuffled and limped towards their way down the corridor. Hermione clutched her hip and wiped at the blood that was dribbling from her lip. Draco was holding his left rib and Hermione very much hoped that his laboured breathing was a result of a fractured rib, or perhaps a punctured lung. She smiled at the thought.

The gash above his eye hadn't stopped bleeding since she'd noticed it in the hall.

Hermione was angry. She'd been having a perfectly fine day up until this point. Trust that no good would come from any interaction with Draco-bloody-Malfoy. Although, a small part of her brain mused, she had been pleasantly surprised by the duel with Draco. It wasn't often that Hermione was challenged, even rarer that she'd meet her match. "Shut up". She told that small optimistic part of her subconscious. She was going to miss charms and it was all Draco's fault.

She glowered at him.

"Careful Granger, your face will get stuck like that." Malfoy said sharply, taking a quick glance at her angry face before staring fixedly ahead.

"Speaking from experience Malfoy?" She retorted. As soon as the words were out, she regretted speaking. There was no point engaging with Malfoy, it just encouraged him. And that was the last thing she wanted.

"I do have a fair amount of…" he turned back to her "…experience". He let the final word roll of his tongue with a smirk.

"I don't even want to know what that means."

"Of course you wouldn't Granger."

Madam Pomfrey ushered them in when they arrived at the hospital wing. It was somewhat amusing to see at least half of the normally empty beds occupied by groaning 6th year Defence Against the Dark Arts Students.

"Take the last bed up there on your left." She ordered as she began to bustle bout Blaise Zabini who looked a little worse for wear.

"Is there a second bed?" Hermione asked. Madame Pomfrey looked cross.

"I've enough to be dealing with without these bloody house feuds. No one's getting seen to unless they are sitting on that bed in five minutes." She looked hassled and Hermione decided not to press the issue any further.

They walked in terse silence to the last remaining bed and sat at opposite ends. Draco winced as he shuffled to find a more comfortable position. Hermione let out an audibly agitated sigh.

"I'm sorry, is my injury upsetting you? Because you're the one that caused it."

"Never thought I'd be sharing a bed with a mu-"

"Don't you dare."

"Muggleborn." He smirked. "I'm sorry, does that term offend you?"

"Knock it off Malfoy."

"If my mother ever heard, she'd be scandalised."

"Well first and last time for everything."

"I wouldn't count on it."

Just as she was about to unleash an extremely clever, witty and well thought out retort Madam Pomfrey came over and looked at Hermione's lip. She dabbed at it with some concoction that tickled as it knitted the skin back together, all the while muttering angrily.

"A duelling club? Again! What one earth goes through that blasted woman's head sometimes I just don't know…" She put the ointment back. "And your hip, was it dear?"

"Yes, I think it's fine though," Hermione began. "Just bruised.

"Well let's take a look at it anyway." Hermione blushed as she became acutely aware of Malfoy sitting rather close to her.

She opened her robe, revealing a skirt which she pulled down just enough to reveal the place she'd collided with the stone. She glanced at Malfoy who was looking at the hip as well. He then looked at her and smirked again rather than looking away. She instantly pulled the skirt back up, scowling at him.

"Yes. Yes. Just a bruise, that will heal itself." She hurried "Now you." She turned to Malfoy.

She took a look at the gash and dabbed the same ointment above his eye. Hermione was fascinated as the flesh seemed to tie itself back together. "Now the ribs. Show me, where it hurts."

Malfoy gingerly held the place where he'd landed. His breathing was still coming heavily, as though effort and pain was required for every breath he took. Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes

"Hmmm. Could be a break. Take off the shirt there deary." Malfoy briefly looked like he'd rather suffer the broken rib before wincing and moving to remove his robe. He undid the buttons on his shirt carefully, slowly. As though it might cause him pain to move any quicker. Hermione wasn't sure where to look.

He opened the shirt, revealing a burgeoning bruise across his left ribcage. Looked painful, Hermione noticed. That's not all that took a hold of her attention. The bruise was resting on skin that formed into very slight ridges across his abdomen, exaggerated in the sitting position, she tried to remove her eyes from the lean, muscular torso of Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy! She reminded herself.

"Take a picture, Granger. It'll last longer." Draco muttered as Hermione blushed profusely.

"As if." She managed. Attempting to sound dismissive through her sputter. Madame Pomfrey appeared oblivious to their interactions, or rather more likely, Hermione mused, she just didn't care. She helped Draco to shrug off the left shoulder of his shirt as she carefully held a towel to a wincing Draco's ribs.

"I'll need my wand for this." She tutted. "Here dear, hold this there carefully, there's a good girl." She beckoned Hermione towards her and placed her hand on top of the towel, holding it in place. "Where did I leave it. Bloody duelling…Umbridge…retirement…castle in San Fran" her muttering got less distinctive as she left in search of her wand.

Hermione became very aware of her proximity to Draco. Her hand was held as far away from her body as anatomy would allow her. But she could still feel the rise and fall of his chest with every ragged breath. And allowed herself just the slightest peak at his arms, purely to assess the grievousness of his injury, of course. The bruise seemed to splay across the left ribcage, stopping short of the chest which was broader than she would have imagined, not that Hermione would ever imagine such things. And the smooth skin ran across toned biceps, tensed from the awkwardness of the given situation. Hermione was surprised, she wouldn't have expected Draco to be one for working out. Sometimes she forgot that Quidditch was a sport.

"Shut it Malofy." She interjected before he could voice the thought she could tell had been brewing at the cusp of his mouth.

"I said nothing." He retorted in mock innocence.

"Yeah," she snorted.

He waited, but she said nothing else.

"This really must be the stuff of your tame wet dreams." Hermione froze, shocked by Malfoy's sudden audacity.

"Is that what you like to think." She responded carefully, weighing up the outcomes of playing along, attempting to unnerve him.

"Ever seen a boy shirtless before?" He began, "Weaslebee maybe, tell me, that red hair of his, does that grow everyw.."

"Shut up Malfoy."

"Oh did I hit a nerve? So I suppose you fucked the ginger, what about the chosen one?" Hermione stayed silent. "I always thought Potter would be the one you'd go for. You do enjoy being special." Hermione rolled her eyes again, tiring of his facetious charade. "Or," he began, eyes flashing in that way of his, "you're a virgin." It wasn't a question."

She didn't respond and he laughed softly, opening his mouth to speak again.

"aaahh!" He moaned in pain.

"Oops," Hermione began innocently, "did I press too hard? I'm so sorry." Her hand pressing the towel firmly against his ribs.

"You little..aah," he gasped as she applied more pressure, "fuck stop."

"More pressure?" She widened her eyes as his slanted in pain, "less pressure? Which is it Malfoy."

"Please stop," he groaned, trying to grab her arm with his other hand.

"Ah ah." She tutted, "What's the magic word?" His eyes burned as she pressed just a fraction harder, concerned at the perverse pleasure she found in revenge.

"Please," he started, staring at her with absolute loathing, "Hermione." She released the towel and smiled sweetly, just as Madame Pomfrey returned.

"Yes. Yes. Thank you, you can go now." Madame Pomfrey set about removing the towel and waving her wand as Hermione got up to leave.

"You're not going to stay by my sickbed?" He yelled after her, the sarcasm undermined by the slight wheeze to his voice.

"Call me if something interesting happens. If you die, for instance." She replied over her shoulder. "And wouldn't that be a shame." She hastily added, upon seeing Madam Pomfrey's shocked expression.

With that she swept through the industrial whiteness of the infirmary, trying to scour the image of Ronald's red hairs from her mind.


End file.
